


Day Two: Mr. Diaz Goes to Therapy

by firstdegreefangirl



Series: Eddie Diaz Week 2020 [2]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Buck and Christopher are just mentioned, Eddie Diaz Needs a Hug (9-1-1 TV), Eddie is stuck in his own head, Gen, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24760171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: It's just 10 digits ... so why can't he dial the phone?
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Eddie Diaz Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789669
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	Day Two: Mr. Diaz Goes to Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, actually posting the thing before dinnertime, instead of at 1 a.m.!

Eddie runs his thumb across the cardstock in his hand. The embossed letters on the business card catch under his fingernail, spelling a name: Frank Thompson. 

_“I think you might benefit from having someone to talk to,” Bobby had said_ _, passing him the card_ _after Eddie broke down in his office last week. Again. “Someone who’s a little further removed from_ _your personal life than I am, Eddie, but you know my door is always open.”_

Bobby’s right, he knows. But that doesn’t make this any easier.

He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut and reopens them, but no, the card is still in his hand and he’s still got the knot in his stomach. 

_He can do this_. 

He needs to do this. He knows exactly what he’d say if anyone else in the station was feeling the way he feels, if Chimney or Hen or Buck said they were on edge all the time, couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that they’re about to ruin everything. If one of them was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, when they hadn’t even seen the first one yet, he’d tell them to go talk to a professional, get some help. 

So why is it so hard for him to get that help for himself? 

This can make him feel better, let him talk through everything that’s on his mind, no judgment. He’s seen Frank a few times before, had to talk to him after particularly difficult calls, after the tsunami, after Shannon died. He’s a good guy, and Eddie remembers the way he’d feel as he walked back to his truck after his appointment, like he had a little more control, he’s a little more equipped to handle his life for at least a few days. 

He’ll be a better dad too, if he feels better about himself. Christopher deserves the best man Eddie can be, deserves everything he has to give, and he can’t do that if he can’t even take care of himself. He’s the only parent Christopher has left – the only biological parent, anyway, even if he’s got a whole second family at the 118 – and Eddie owes it to him to make sure he’s in a position to be the best version of himself. 

Or something else equally corny, that’s true if he thinks about it, but still makes him roll his eyes. 

Besides, he has to be able to help people every day at work. It’s not like he can’t help people; he just has to help himself too. 

Eddie deserves good things, he knows that rationally. He just wants to _feel_ like it’s true, like he’s worthy of all the good things he has. And making this phone call is the first step to reaching that point. 

_He can’t do this._

He can’t bring himself to make the call, and doesn’t that just make him feel even worse? Bobby walked him through every step of this, put the card right into his hand. All he had to do was to dial the number and make the appointment. 

No one else can do that for him, and he can’t do it for himself either. So now he’s at an impasse; he knows what he needs to do, and it shouldn’t be as hard as it is. 

It’s just 10 digits, and it won’t take five minutes of actual talking. He’s made enough doctor’s appointments for himself and Chris over the years to know that booking the time slot isn’t the hard part. 

They’ll save that for once he’s cornered in the office, once he’d have to admit his failures publicly if he backed out. That’s when he’ll have to talk about everything that’s been on his mind lately: the sleepless nights, how he’s constantly convinced that he’s failing his son, the way he beats himself up when he performs anything less than perfectly at work. 

_He has to do this._

He takes another deep breath and dials the number, but his thumb hovers over the ‘call’ icon without touching the screen. 

Eddie tips his head back and groans; it's a single phone call and he can feel the self-loathing creeping in at this, his latest failure. He can’t even make a phone call without having to analyze every second of it. 

And he has it _so good,_ is the thing. He knows that. He’s got a job he loves; the best team he’s ever worked alongside; the greatest kid the world has ever known; a Buck, something better than a best friend, a nameless _more_ they’re figuring out every day. 

He just wants to deserve everything he has. He wants to be as good for the people around him as they are for him. 

All of a sudden, a memory flashes bright across the back of his eyes. Christopher’s little hands wrapped around his arm, shaking him awake, calling out for him in the middle of the night. He’d been in the middle of a nightmare, woke up in a cold sweat with Christopher’s face inches from his own, eyes wide and terrified. 

He’d crawled into bed with Eddie, made some weak excuse for needing to stay, curled himself around Eddie’s side and fallen back asleep there. 

Chris is barely 10. He shouldn’t have to be responsible for taking care of his dad, making sure that Eddie is OK. He should be able to do that himself. 

It’s that thought that finally gets him to tap ‘call:’ Christopher shouldn’t be responsible for Eddie, so Eddie has to be responsible for himself, and this is the responsible thing to do. 

He’s pressed the phone against his ear, but the first ring still startles him. The noise makes him jump, almost convinces him to hang up and try again when he’s more ready. 

But he knows he’ll never be entirely ready for this, not until he’s actually started the process. So he makes himself listen to the ringing, gives into the urge to stand up and start pacing across the living room. 

A friendly-sounding woman answers the phone, but he’s too distracted to hear her generic greeting. Still, he knows what he has to say, so he takes a deep breath and makes himself speak. 

“Hi, my name is Edmundo Diaz, and I’m calling to make an appointment for … for therapy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Two down, five to go!


End file.
